sorry,” she said, meaning it—and acutely aware of the disapproval emanating from his mother. She couldn’t say whether it was because he’d made the sexual side of their relationship so obvious or because Andrea had so clearly broken her son’s heart, but she knew one thing for certain: the woman didn’t like her.
Andrea shook it off, reminding herself her visit was about Ian’s well-being, his healing, not her comfort level. “We’ve been apart for two years,” she said. “I have a new fiancé.”
“So we’re engaged—or we were?” He shook his head, offering the wry smile she’d always found so irresistibly disarming. “I must’ve been an idiot, letting a woman like you go.”
She smiled back at him, pretending not to hear the fresh grief behind his words. “Your brother thought that we might visit for a while and talk. He thought that seeing me might help you remember.”
Ian snorted. “Well, at least you’re a damn sight better looking than any of those shrinks they keep pushing at me.”
She sighed but realized there was no way around what was sure to be another troubling disclosure. “Do you remember why we went to Key West? What we were celebrating?”
He shook his head.
“You surprised me with the trip after I completed my doctorate.”
“So you’re a doctor? Like an MD?” He winked at his mother. “I always did go for the smart girls, at least, the pretty ones.”
“I’m a psychologist,” Andrea admitted.
He laughed, his smile turning bitter. “So that explains why you’re here. One more shrink to poke around my skull. Tell me, are you working for the army these days, or the Department of Defense?”
“Neither, Ian. I’m here because I care about you. And your brother, Zach, really did speak to my boss at the center for—”
He waved it off. “I don’t give a damn who sent you.”
His mother looked up sharply over the gilded rim of her teacup. “Language, young man.”
“I just want you out of here, right now,” he finished, anger and betrayal competing in his voice.
“Please, Ian,” Andrea said. “I’ve come a long way to see you.”
“Not half as far as I’ve come to be left the hell alone.”
With that, he showed her his back as he stalked toward the stairway. A few steps up, he paused and turned to look down at his mother, his voice gentling. “Sorry for the language, and I’m sorry I upset you earlier. I’ll remember next time to let you know when I have plans.”
“It’s all right, Ian. It’s just—” she answered nervously “—I do worry so about you, with everything that’s happened.”
“I’m headed upstairs for that shower now. But while I’m gone, would you please show Dr. Warrington the door.”
On his way upstairs, he nearly ran into a strawberry-blonde woman close to Andrea’s and Ian’s own age as she was heading down, a purse over her shoulder and a set of keys in hand.
“Excuse me, Jessie,” he said, his voice tight with impatience as he angled his way past her and the muscular black-and-tan Rottweiler at her side.
“Sure thing, Ian.” Jessie raised a speculative brow as he charged upstairs. At the bottom of the steps, she paused, glancing back up toward the landing at the sound of a door slamming. “Is he mad that I sent Zach to find him?”
“I’m afraid he’s upset with me,” Andrea admitted as she walked up to the woman and offered her hand. “Andrea Warrington.”
“The psychologist, right, and ex—the old friend.” Jessie shook her hand in greeting, looking up to meet Andrea’s gaze. “Hi. I’m Jessie Layton.”
“Jessie Rayford now,” her mother-in-law corrected, that same disapproval in her tone.
“I thought we’d had this discussion. Several times, as I remember.” An undercurrent of annoyance rippled beneath an attempt at pleasantry. “Since I write under my maiden name—”
“But you’re not writing now, Jessie. This is a social situation, and as Zach’s wife and Eden’s mother, I’d expect you’d want to—” Nancy Rayford cut herself off as the Rottweiler interposed herself between the women, as if to ward off her harsh words. Scowling, she added, “Really. That animal.”
“Gretel, platz,” Jessie said, and at the command—which Andrea thought might be in German—the dog dropped into the down position. “Sorry, but whenever she perceives a threat—”
“So what happens if you have an argument with my son?”
Jessie smiled at the Rottweiler. “Big traitor usually takes his side.”
Eager to defuse the tension, Andrea cleared her throat. “I read the article you wrote on Ian’s return. It was incredibly well done, very moving.”
Jessie ducked a nod, the relief in her green eyes making it clear she appreciated the diversion. “Thanks, Andrea. It was important. To get the word out quickly, I mean. Ian might not remember why, but he’s pretty paranoid these days. When he first came, he worried that someone might come take him away in the dark of night if the public didn’t hear he’d come back. He’s pretty short-tempered these days, too. But I guess you’ve already found that out for yourself.”
“Please, Jessie,” Nancy Rayford said. “He’s been through so much. And you’re making him sound like some sort of madman.”
“I promise you, I’ll never think of him that way,” Andrea assured her. “I work with returning vets. A lot of them have anger issues, and it must be even more confusing when he doesn’t consciously recall the reason why.”
“It was those horrible terrorists,” Mrs. Rayford whispered, tears shining in her eyes. “Heaven only knows what they did to my poor boy for almost a year. When I think of how he’s suffered...”
“It must be hard for you, too.” Andrea looked from one woman to the other in an effort to remind them of their common ground. “Not knowing what might set him off, not knowing what will help him.”
Jessie gave her a look that seemed to weigh and judge her. “You’ll help him. I see that.”
“It’s a shame that Ian won’t allow it,” her mother-in-law said, talking right over her. “But you heard him a moment ago. You’ll have to leave, Miss Warrington.”
“But I just—” Andrea started, more concerned about the swift dismissal than she was the omission of the “Dr.” before her name.
“He’s been through enough. We mustn’t upset him.”
Jessie looked down at the small, frail woman, the impatience in her expression melting into compassion. “You want him to get better, don’t you?”
“I do, more than anything.”
